


The World Only Spins Forward

by Phoebus



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Era, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 23:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebus/pseuds/Phoebus
Summary: Francis helps James get ready for a drag ball.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43
Collections: Trans Terror Week





	The World Only Spins Forward

**Author's Note:**

> I have left it intentionally unclear whether James is a trans woman, nonbinary/gender-variant, or a feminine man, as the lines between those categories weren't exactly clear-cut in the Victorian era. You are of course welcome to interpret James' gender identity whichever way you prefer.
> 
> Francis also uses he/him pronouns for James throughout.

“And you are certain that this won’t be a terrible disaster, ending with the two of us in prison, or worse?”

  
Crozier pulled together the corset shaping James’ form tightly. “I’m sure of it. No, I made sure of it. The ball is invite only, all guests are thoroughly checked in advance by the hosts, the windows are blacked out. Christ, even the musician they hired is fully blind.”

He smoothed over James’ midriff, now alluringly pinched by whalebone. “You will be fine,” he went on in a softer voice, meeting James’ gaze in the full-length mirror in front of them. He was beautiful in his dress. Francis thought him good-looking no matter what he wore, but now, decked out in brocade and silk, stockinged feet in dainty shoes he had special-made, his shining locks piled up artfully, he was a sight to behold.

It wasn’t the clothing that made him more beautiful than usual though, it was the look in his eyes. They were brimming with emotion, with a glimmer that Francis would do anything to see there, no matter what.

“Anyway, what happened to jumping into freezing rivers and storming Chinese fortresses? You don’t want to say you are afraid, do you?”  
James rolled his eyes, and Francis averted his own, glad that he could distract him.

  
“I’ll have you know, this is completely different. And I am certainly not afraid, only reasonably cautious. As I am well-advised to be!” James said while attempting to run his fingers through his hair, a gesture that Francis knew by now to be mainly nerves and only some parts vanity, only to stop himself in the act, remembering the carefully placed pins holding his hair together in the latest fashion.

A single unruly strand still managed to free itself, and Francis couldn't resist the temptation to reach out and tuck it behind James' ear.

  
Of course Francis was aware that should this evening go wrong, they would have hell coming down upon them.

And yet, seeing James like this, slightly moving from side to side to make his skirts dance around his ankles, he was confident beyond doubt that they were doing the right thing.  
Francis took James’ hand in his own where it was hanging by his side. They were about the same size, and yet James’ seemed more delicate wrapped in the fine lace glove. Francis let his thumb wander, appreciating the texture underneath.

When he looked up, James was meeting his eyes in the mirror, a faint flush high on his cheeks complimenting his features.

  
Francis had watched him apply the cold creams and various powders, dab oil on his eyelids and darken his lashes, captured by the scene that presented itself to him.

Although it was not the first time he had witnessed the ritual, James' careful ministrations and the tender way he touched his own face afterwards made him observe in reverential silence, studying every delightful change in detail.

  
Francis saw him swallow, his neck moving, and with it the elegant pearls that adorned it.

“Francis,” James whispered, his fingers holding fast to Francis’ hands, “I lied. I am scared, terribly so.”

His expression was so vulnerably open, so raw, Francis could feel his chest tighten in response. For him to have and to hold something so precious, he could scarcely make sense of it all. God must be jealous of His own creation, looking down on them.  
“You are the bravest man,” he started, “the bravest person I know, sweetheart.”  
James broke into a shaky smile at the endearment.

  
“And you show your bravery every day anew, astonishing everyone, but me more than any other. I am so proud to be your companion to this ball, as in life, and whoever gets to see you like this, so dignified and sure in who you have become, is a lucky bastard, if you excuse the phrase.”  
James scoffed, but his smile had taken over his whole face now, showing the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that Francis adored.

“Captain Crozier, you old romantic. Fine, let’s go out to our carriage before the festivities are over then, shall we?” He turned around to Francis, his face so close now that Francis couldn’t resist pressing a shy kiss to his cheek.

  
He bowed and offered his arm to James, who took it with an appreciative nod.  
“Lead the way, Lady Crozier,” Francis declared with a put-on accent, James’ amused laughter almost enough to distract him from the warmth spreading on his face at the thought of James as his wife.

**Author's Note:**

> The drag ball (and indeed this whole ficlet) was inspired by the drag balls that transfeminine Victorians Fanny Park and Stella Boulton visited. And yes, they did actually hire blind musicians to protect everyone's privacy! I highly recommend Queer As Fact's [podcast episode](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/queer-as-fact/e/59109141) on them!


End file.
